‘I can only see five at the moment,’ Hazel says from her spot in the armchair by the window. ‘Who’s missing?’
‘Lola,’ Molly and Kiri chorus from the couch. Molly smiles, but Kiri tuts.
‘No wonder her sugars are all over the place. I should go and wake her up.’
‘Ah, leave her a bit longer, hon.’ Ants folds the front section of yesterday’s newspaper and sets it on the table. ‘She needs a holiday, too.’
‘Diabetes doesn’t take a holiday,’ Kiri says, her syllables clipped.
Ants plucks a bauble off the carpet and hangs it over a drooping branch on the Christmas tree. ‘A couple of high sugars over the next few days won’t hurt her long-term.’
‘Richard, what do you think?’ Kiri asks. She’s always doing that, addressing Richard as if he’s a medical doctor rather than a biochemist. Molly isn’t sure whether to be irritated or amused.
Richard scratches his head. ‘As long as they’re not too high, I guess.’
‘You could go and jab her in her sleep,’ Joe says, appearing from outside.
‘I volunteer you,’ Kiri says, glaring after him as he walks into the kitchen. ‘Men, do they ever take anything seriously?’
‘Not when it comes to the Mortimer boys.’ Molly cocks her head to listen to the yelling coming from outside: Tom and Noah having a feisty game of table tennis. ‘I’m surprised anyone can sleep through that noise.’ Noah had been uncharacteristically cheerful when he got out of bed that morning. Usually Molly can’t get a peep out of him before breakfast.
Kiri looks at Molly, her nostrils wide. ‘Exactly. What if she’s having a hypo?’
‘Oh, come on, would you just settle down?’ Ants says. Kiri, looking wounded, stands up and stalks out of the room. Pouting, Ants gives Molly a look and takes off after her.
‘Jeepers, someone’s wound up,’ Joe says, wandering back into the lounge with a waffle.
Hazel waves a knitting needle at him. ‘Joseph Luke Mortimer, how many times do I have to tell you to get a plate?’
‘Never too old to learn,’ Richard says.
‘Nah, I’m far too set in my ways.’ Joe steps sideways to avoid Hazel’s playful slap. Molly thinks, As if she’d let me get away with that. Feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden, she gets to her feet.
‘I’m going for a stroll, anyone want to come?’
Joe opens his mouth.
‘I will.’ Richard reaches for his cap, hanging on the back of a chair.
Joe jams the waffle between his teeth. Later, Molly thinks, glancing sideways at her twin and sees his eyes flicker. She knows he’s thinking the same thing.
Later, later. It’s always the same.
Chapter 10:
MOLLY 1987
Molly took the long way home from school, so she could cut past the dairy. The metallic glare of the sun was all around her, bouncing off the cars parked on the side of the road, leaching out of the cracked footpaths and faded concrete buildings. A beat-up Holden with lowered wheels cruised past her, the bass beat reverberating through the pavement and into her body. She recognised two of the boys in the back seat, both expelled from her school two years ago. They’d gained several kilograms in weight and gang patches since then.
Matt Griffiths and Hemi Gordon were sitting on the bench outside the dairy. Hemi was eating Raro drink concentrate straight out of the packet, orange crystals clinging to the corners of his mouth. Matt was slouching against the wall, smoking one of the cigarettes the dairy owner sold singly to the school kids. His black-brown hair was styled with gel, so spiky Molly wanted to poke it to see how it felt.
Hemi tilted his chin in greeting. Matt took his cigarette out of his mouth and held it out to her. Molly didn’t like smoking. She didn’t like smoking, but she liked Matt, so she sat on the square of bench to his left and took the smouldering stick from him.
‘Fuck, it’s hot,’ Hemi said.
‘Really hot,’ Matt said, reaching to take the cigarette back off Molly. He’d looped strips of leather around his wrist, ten, maybe more, times. ‘We’re going for a swim soon, want to come?’
‘I’ve got to get home,’ Molly said. She didn’t say because I’ve got a piano lesson. She didn’t want Hemi to mock her.
Matt tipped his head back and smiled. ‘Maybe another day, huh?’
‘Another day, for sure.’ A deep regret seeped into her. What if Matt didn’t ask her again? They’d been flirting with each other, off and on, since the end of last year, ever since their paths had crossed in the career advisor’s office.
Matt wanted to be an engineer. He wanted to get the hell out of this place, just like her.
Hemi said, ‘Hey, you should invite her to Chuck’s party tonight.’
Matt drew on his cigarette, pushed a misshapen smoke ring out of his mouth. Molly got the impression he wasn’t inhaling, just like her. You did what you had to, around here, so you could fit in.
‘Do you want to come?’ Matt’s fingers lit briefly on her wrist and fluttered away again; a feeling that was mirrored in her stomach.
‘We’ll pick you up in the shit-mobile,’ Hemi said, laughing, and Matt elbowed him.
‘At least it’s got a warrant.’
‘I’ll come.’ Molly stood up, tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘Congratulations on the Head Boy thing, by the way.’
Hemi guffawed. ‘Yeah, he’s good at head.’
‘Piss off,’ Matt said, crimson suffusing his neck. He ground the cigarette butt beneath his heel, then picked it up and threw it in the bin. ‘We’ll come past at nine, what’s your address?’
After pulling a pen out of her bag, Molly wrote her street name and number down the length of his arm, just above the blue line of his vein.
‘Park across the road,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait at the bus stop.’
‘Sure thing,’ Matt said, his dark eyes on hers.
‘Absolutely not.’ Molly’s mother was scrubbing floors, her hair tied up in a bun. ‘You need to be on top form for your recital tomorrow.’
‘It’s not until two pm. I’ve practised heaps, anyway.’ Molly twisted sideways towards her twin, who was cooking up two-minute noodles on the stove. ‘Bet Joe doesn’t have to stay home tonight.’
‘I was going to head over with Chris and Shane,’ Joe said, pulling a tangle of noodles out of the pot with a pair of tongs. ‘So I can bring Molly home. By midnight, so she doesn’t turn into a pumpkin.’
Their mother straightened up, dumping her cleaning rag in the bucket.
‘I’ve given you my reasons,’ she said, extinguishing the flicker of hope in Molly’s chest. ‘And I’ve given you my answer. So don’t ask me again.’
Blue rage bubbled up the back of Molly’s throat. ‘This is so sexist. If I were a guy, you’d be letting me roam all over the neighbourhood.’
‘This has nothing to do with you being a girl, and everything to do with your career,’ her mother said, her voice sharp. ‘You’ll thank me for this when you’re older.’
‘Don’t kid yourself.’ Molly whirled on her heel and took off down the hallway, taking great satisfaction in slamming the door so hard the house rocked. Tears welled. She was sick of feeling hemmed in, sick of being forced to live out her mother’s dreams.
Last year, unbeknownst to her mother, she’d asked the careers advisor what subjects she needed to do a degree in molecular biology. The change had been inspired by the most interesting class she’d ever had, where their teacher had showed them how to type their own blood. Molly was type O, like their father, who knew this fact because he was a blood donor. Joe was type A. Their science teacher had said that their mother must be type A too, because O blood type was recessive, and a type O man and type O woman would only ever have type O children.
After that Molly had changed almost all her subjects for the year, replacing them with three sciences and statistics. No more Economics, no more drop-dead-boring French and History.
Molly hadn’t dropped the Music. She di
dn’t dare, not yet.
There was a knock on her door, and it flew open.
‘I never said you could come in,’ Molly said into her pillow.
‘You didn’t tell me to piss off either.’ Joe closed the door and sat beside her. ‘Are you going?’
Molly flipped onto her back. ‘Were you actually listening just now?’
Joe’s lips twitched. ‘You’re such a goody-goody, aren’t you?’
‘OK, now I’m telling you to piss off.’ Molly reached up to shove him away. Joe caught her by the wrists.
‘I’m trying to help you, Lolly. Go to bed early with a headache, sneak out. I’ll meet you on the corner.’
Molly stared at him. ‘Matt’s picking me up at nine.’
‘Matt?’ Joe’s mouth narrowed. ‘As in The Griff?’
‘Yes, that Matt.’
His top lip curled. ‘You can do better than that.’
‘He’s got a car.’
‘Good for him,’ Joe said, standing up.
‘Oh, so you’re not going to cover for me now?’ Molly wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.
Her brother turned, gripping the doorframe. ‘I said I would, didn’t I?’
Molly retired to her bedroom at half-past eight. After dropping the painkillers Hazel had given her into a drawer, she chose an outfit — faded Levi 501s, a hand-me-down from a friend who couldn’t squeeze into them anymore, and a blue chambray shirt. She left her hair down and applied lipstick, mascara, eyeliner.
‘Molly?’ Her mother’s voice sounded outside the door. Molly jumped into bed and pulled the covers up over her head. She heard the door creak open, followed by a sigh.
Asleep, I’m asleep, go away.
The door closed again. After waiting for a few minutes, Molly sat up, smoothing her hair. Her stomach twisting with nerves, she stood in front of the mirror again. With the make-up, she thought she could pass for eighteen rather than sixteen.
She wondered if there would be alcohol at the party. She wondered if Matt would kiss her.
There was beer at the party; weed too. Molly stuck to the can of Lion Red Matt had given her in the car, and sat next to him on Chuck’s front lawn, passing a cigarette back and forth as the sun fell behind the hill. She didn’t know Matt’s friends very well — they were all in the year above her — but they seemed nice enough. Matt kept brushing his arm past hers and, after an hour or so, put his hand on her thigh and left it there.
As for Joe, she hadn’t seen him yet. Now it was close to eleven, and she couldn’t ignore the urge to go to the bathroom anymore.
Bending towards Matt, she said, ‘I’m just going to the loo.’
‘Cool, see you soon.’ Squeezing her knee, he gave her one of his bashful smiles and she could have kissed him right then. Too many other people around, though, so she went into the house, past a couple making out on the stairs and into the toilet.
When she returned to the hallway, Matt was leaning against the wall, talking to an intimidating girl in his year Molly had never dared say a word to. Unsure what to do, Molly started walking back down the stairs.
‘Hey.’ Matt looped an arm around Molly’s shoulders. ‘Where are you off to?’
‘I was — I don’t know.’ She glanced behind them. The girl had disappeared, the stairway gropers too. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I came to find you.’ He tugged her back up the stairs until they were on the landing, standing very close to the wall. ‘Are you having a good time?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, and he kissed her, at last, at last.
‘I’ve been wanting to do that all year,’ he said.
‘Me too,’ she admitted, and they smiled at each other. Matt moved sideways and tried a door handle, then beckoned her into the room with a tilt of his head. He pushed the door shut and they tumbled onto the bed.
‘Oh my God,’ he said, after fumbling with her bra strap. ‘Is this guy-proof or something?’
‘It’s an intelligence test,’ she said.
‘Guess I failed that then.’
‘Like this,’ she said, unfastening it for him.
‘Ooh,’ he said, and they both got the giggles. When they started kissing again, it was deeper, slower, and then Matt was kissing her breasts, her belly, and—
A door hit the wall, light flooding into the room.
‘Shit.’ Matt rolled off her.
Molly sat up, glaring at her brother. ‘What are you doing?’
Joe scowled back at her. ‘What are you doing?’
Matt held up his hands. ‘I’m innocent,’ he said, but Joe, for once, wasn’t laughing.
‘You’d better come home,’ Joe said. ‘It’s late.’
‘What?’ Molly could have slapped him.
Beside her, Matt murmured, ‘Don’t worry, Molly, I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?’
Even though Molly was angry with Joe for dragging her away from the party, she was buzzing when she went to bed, Matt’s kisses tingling on her lips. She woke just before nine, inexplicably starving, and made a beeline for the kitchen where she found her father drinking coffee and listening to the radio.
‘How well do you know the Head Boy?’ her father asked.
Molly’s heart sped up. ‘Um, I sort of know him.’ Oh God, had Joe said something? She’d kill him.
‘Not setting a very good example, was he?’ Her father twiddled the volume dial on the radio, just in time to hear the opening of the hourly news bulletin. ‘Heard about it first thing this morning. Drinking, drugs, driving –– they didn’t stand a chance.’
Molly froze, her brain refusing to process what she was hearing at first.
Head Boy and fellow student die in car smash.
And it could have been any head boy, of any school, but the newsreader was saying Ocean View High, and Head Boy front seat passenger and unsurvivable.
The newsreader didn’t say if he was still breathing when they found him. They didn’t say if he still had her address written on his arm.
Maybe it would be there forever, now.
Molly wrenched her eyes away from the radio, a tremor passing through her.
‘I didn’t really know him,’ she said. Then she marched out of the dining room and into the toilet, where she threw up, again and again.
Molly didn’t know how she got through the rest of the day. She told her mother she still had a terrible headache, that she couldn’t do her recital. Hazel told Molly she needed to toughen up and dosed her up with painkillers and coffee before driving her to Auckland for the recital.
Molly performed like a robot, her notes and rhythm perfect, but devoid of emotion. On the way home, Hazel told Molly she was proud of her for carrying on despite the headache, that Molly’s fortitude would take her a long way.
After asking her mother to pull over, Molly threw up again. She’d barely eaten all day and was surprised there was anything left in her stomach.
‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ Hazel asked, once Molly was back in the car.
Clenching her fists, Molly said, ‘No, I’m not pregnant.’
‘There’s no need to shout.’
Molly gripped the tops of her thighs. They drove the rest of the way in silence.
Joe was standing by the letterbox when they pulled into the driveway, as if he’d known they weren’t far away. Once their mother had stalked inside, he drew Molly close and put his arms around her.
‘I’m so sorry, Lolly.’
‘Piss off,’ she choked, and the tears came at last, so thick and fast she could barely breathe. If Joe hadn’t interrupted them, if she hadn’t left Matt there, if she’d warned him not to let Hemi drive no matter how little he’d said he had to drink (he was smoking weed, he was, he was); if, if, if …
‘I’m so fucking sorry,’ he repeated. When she couldn’t stop crying, Joe distracted their parents so she could escape into her bedroom. Hours passed, and still she cried, until it felt as if all the moisture and strength had been sucked out of her bod
y.
I hate my life, it will never get better, I never even got the chance to know him, it’s not fair.
It was late, after midnight, when her door inched open. She knew who it was, of course; had sensed his arrival even before she’d heard him.
‘Are you all right, Lolly?’
Molly breathed in, a whimper escaping. She felt the air on her legs as the sheet was drawn back, felt the warm length of Joe’s body beside her.
‘I keep thinking about how you could have been in that car too,’ he said.
‘Maybe I should have been.’ Her voice was thick.
‘No,’ he said. ‘No. You’re not allowed to die before me.’
‘Well, you’re not allowed to die before me,’ she said, repeating the mantra they’d been reciting to each other ever since they were twelve. As hopeless as she felt right then, she knew she would go on. But if she lost Joe, she’d be lost. Not just lost, but broken, irreparable.
‘I won’t leave you, Lolly.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘No matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?’
‘I know,’ she said. Then he held her until she fell into an exhausted sleep, her head on his chest; his heartbeat in her ear.
Chapter 11:
LOLA
That night, Lola dreams she is swimming through black ness, with only a star-studded sea floor to guide her way. An eerie noise echoes around her, a noise she instinctively recognises as whale song.
Follow, they sing. So she does, on and on, until she reaches an underground cavern with a light at one end. She swims towards it, her heart beating faster and faster. The whale song merges with something else, musical notes. Not just any notes, but ‘Fantaisie Impromptu’, and the rocks around her have turned into basalt and chalk, oblong blocks rising and falling like piano keys.
And then she’s sitting on the beach, kissing Noah and—
His mouth is cold on the outside and hot on the inside.
He tastes of salt and chocolate ice-cream.
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